We are often described by those whose DNA we sample as "talking goldfish with beards." We have not yet sampled the DNA of this creature you call "Amos" or "A Muss." Please provide his location so that we may do so. As you might know, we do not like the unsampled to recognize us and we must deal with this "A Mess."

"I've got a mind that can't say "No" I'm in a turrible jam! I always say it must be so, That's just the way that I am! When most fellers dream up creatures weird They let it go and blamer it on the beer! But when I see a talking goldfish with a beard I tell the world it's real and it is here! I caaaan't saaaaay nooooooo!"

Oh, great! Now instead of just a "Poetry About Mudcat" thread, we can have a "Poetry About Little Hawk's Alter Egos" thread as well....

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Oh, stand up, Eddie Whatnoll! Stand up on your own! It's damned well disgusting How fat you have grown! Your girth is so wide It won't fit through the door! And if you stand up You might fall through the floor!

My neighbor Bubba accidentally got his bodywash an' a bottle of "Doe in Heat" deer attractor mixed up. He was gettin' ready to mow down a field of picked cotton stalks the other mornin' when a eight-point buck comes runnin' outta the woods headin' straight for him. Well, he didn't have no gun with him, so he clumb up into the cab of that big ol' John Deere of his an' got the door shut just before that buck got to him. That deer was so pissed off that he throwed back his head and bellowed for three or four minutes, butted the tractor in the grill a couple of times, and then started humpin' that tractor's left rear tire just like Gluon goin' after Rapaire's leg. That went on for a couple of minutes until the buck seemed to have finished his business, after which he snorted, pissed on the ground, and walked back into the woods.

I asked Bubba how come he didn't just crank up the tractor an' run over the thing, an' he said he was just too dumbfounded to think of it. Well, I don't have too much trouble with that explanation bein' as how dumbfoundin' Bubba ain't much harder than fishin' with dynamite....

Actually, only the part about kayaking is true, although of late the weather's been too rough for so light a craft. I have often sought, but never found, the seal of Approval I used to hear about watching TV as a child. I suppose he lives on the East Coast somewhere.

Rampant narcissism indeed! I suppose, Amos, that you are not about to own up to the full length mirror you have mounted on your own bedroom ceiling so you can admire your oiled supine body in it, and the pet Mynah bird whom you have taught to repeat "Amos is a genius!" over and over again while you compose MOABS verses at the computer... ;-)

I use body shampoo while camping, but I don't use it at home. A bottle of liquid is easier to take back and forth to the bath house at a festival than a wet bar of regular soap. It doesn't seem to have any auto-erotic effect, but it's the the cheapest brand out there.